


Fed up

by DissssBishh



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Band Break Up, F/M, M/M, Past Frank Iero/Gerard Way - Freeform, Short One Shot, Stuffing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, binge eating, no beta we die like idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DissssBishh/pseuds/DissssBishh
Summary: He's done it, ended it all. No more My Chemical Romance. home alone with just his thoughts, but he'd really rather not be.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Lindsey Ballato/Gerard Way
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Fed up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marriedtojbiebs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marriedtojbiebs/gifts).



> Massive thanks and adoration to the wonderful Marriedtojbiebs. They're doing gods work, and encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone as an author, if you enjoy more soft sweet stuffing I recommend their work .. This. This is not that. But please feel free to tell me if this is something you enjoy.

“Be back in a few hours, see you Gee.”

Lindsey turns closing the door her painted red smile standing stark in his mind. She hasn’t said a thing yet but he knows she’s thrilled it’s all over.

My Chemical Romance. It’s finally over.

He’s been wanting to quit since they made the first album, but now that it’s finally over he can’t quite process it. He stands in the front hallway feeling like a shadowy phantom. It’s been such a long time since he’s been alone with his feelings like this, he feels so empty. Wails and cries playing in his head, a sliver of shame seems to pierce through them, that sharp twist hurts him more than he’d like to admit.

He wants to distract himself, hide for a little bit, maybe eat something...

All his movements jerky and unnatural, his mind finding the idea of going back to his old habits quite appealing.

He can’t binge drink anymore but binge eating isn’t off the cards.

He starts grabbing at random objects, he doesn’t quite care, as long as it’s edible and he can shove it down his throat, instead of wanting to scream and shout, his anger turns to a frantic scramble. His arms laden with products he knows are going to completely obliterate any progress he’d made on losing weight. He knows he shouldn’t but he doesn’t have it in him to care right now. He dumps his haul and plonks himself down, he shouldn’t be doing this he shouldn’t have done what he did, but it’s fine. It’s something to celebrate right?

He grabs a packet of something the label and contents not really mattering, as long as it made him loose focus on the bubbling explosion of anger and pain.

He refocuses on the mountain of junk sitting on the table in front of him He wants to slam it all down, doesn’t want to think of the hot tears brimming on his waterline.

He moves on to something else a pack of something chocolate covered carbohydrates. It fills his senses and he doesn’t give two fucks, he continues the cycle open it, eat it, empty it and repeat. His mind runs frantically as all it focuses on is wanting that choked up feeling go away, to drown it out and stop these damn fucking tears threatening to make tracks down his face.

 _Fuck you all_ thoughts bitter as he bites down on something sweet. A million faces and names swirl in his head as he eats with an unquenchable anger.

He sees Frank at the middle of them all, his stupid fucking handsome face. The fact he cares, that he wanted this so desperately. It may be killing Gerard to do this but he knows it’s ruining Frank and he’s too ashamed to admit he cares, too fed up with it all.

That’s what he is now, fed up, packed to the brim with frustration and food, his lungs and stomach fucking burning at the sudden painful stretch.

The sharp pain striking his stomach is a sudden reminder of how much he’s eaten, it hardly feels like 5 minutes but he’s been eating in a frenzy the moment he sat himself down. It’s a tingling spreading pain, he presses his fingers to the taught dome only responding with angry growls at the sudden and aggressive caloric dump. The clock hanging on the wall tells him some time over half an hour has passed, and from the mess of wrappers and empty packages he more than believes it, along with the sheer dense weight hanging off his middle shifting his legs to accommodate the mass feels like a fucking painful task, almost as painful as acknowledging what he’s done, what has finally come to an end.

He realizes he’s pinned in place by his gluttony, it could be worse. It could be his gloom instead.


End file.
